


eat your heart out

by izumidos



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: But harmless and just want to get their houseowner's attention, Demons, Eventual Romance, Gen, M/M, Romantic Comedy, listen its only scary for a little bit and then its gay
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-14
Updated: 2019-07-14
Packaged: 2020-06-28 02:03:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19802461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/izumidos/pseuds/izumidos
Summary: There's rumors about the house that Gavin's moving into, centering around the supernatural. But it's a free house in this economy, Gavin doesn't believe in that sort of thing, and he's polite enough to probably not piss off any supernatural creatures that do live there. Absolutelynothingcould go wrong.(or in which Gavin lives in a definitely supernatural house, his friends are concerned, and Ryan is the demon who lived there first trying to get the new owner's attention. Not like Gavin notices any of it anyway.)





	eat your heart out

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Quinquangularist](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quinquangularist/gifts).



> i started this like months ago but i added more and cleaned it up some. anyway this is for quin who tossed this idea out and kindled a passion for human/non-human romcoms, which is the best genre really! 
> 
> romance is gonna start up in future chapters, and it's gonna be as cheekily disastrous as all those hollywood romcoms

The Texas heat pounds against Gavin’s body, and with no clouds in sight, the sun’s rays are full force. Even after years of residence, the heat is still his worst enemy after living in muggy London. It worsens with spring melting into summer being a nasty occasion for allergies, and he scowls as he steps out of the car. He has to peer through squinted, watery eyes at the building they’ve stopped by.

It’s a fairly large home, complete with two levels and a wide front porch, white paint splashed everywhere. A grey, cement path leads from their parking job to wind around the side and back; an odd place for a garage, but at least the path is decorated by colorful planters and shrubs. At the front of the home, windows litter the entire plane and light up what little they see of the interior.

The house isn’t bad on the outside, but it is an impressive difference from Gavin’s old home. It’s almost got a Southern farmhouse charm, Gavin muses, when a low whistle and some gravelly steps creep up. It takes Gavin out of his examination of the house, peripherals catching the sight of tattooed arms.

“Your grandfather gave you...this?” Geoff mumbles under his breath, eyes running over the house. He shoves his hands in his pockets – an indicator of a less than pleasant thought running in his mind, as Gavin’s learned over the years. Geoff looks dubious. “Are you sure this is the right place?”

Gavin rolls his eyes, nudging Geoff’s shoulder. “It’s the only house in this area of the land, you twat. Used to be a literal farmhouse, but when Grandad bought it in retirement days, he turned it into this.”

He can see Geoff process the information slowly, before the man shakes his head in disbelief. It’s not an incorrect reaction, really.

“It’s just that...this house doesn’t look like what I expected. I mean, your crazy bastard of a grandfather raved about hauntings here before he had to be carted off,” Geoff says. “I thought it’d look more...rusted and abandoned. Like a place that Alfredo wouldn’t enter, calling it a ‘white people horror movie’ again.”

Geoff pauses. His eyes rove around the building frequently, unable to reconnect Gavin’s grandfather’s stories with the polished home. “Guy went mental for the last decade of his life about demons. And now, he’s actually passing it down to one of his grandkids? Full offense, Gav, it doesn’t sound like a good thing honestly.”

Gavin is by no means a strong believer in the supernatural (not like Geoff), but he’s not stupid enough to completely cross of their existence. The supernatural is just like the extraterrestrial in his eyes – no ways to prove them, no ways to disprove them. It’s just him and his belief, and the truth is that there _is_ no truth. The only proveable thing here is Gavin’s unwillingness to be an asshole to potential creatures who could fuck him over.

“It’s a nice house, I’ll give your grandpa that, but fuck. There must’ve been some truth to what was spouting off before he died! The house hadn’t managed to be bought by anyone here for a reason.” Geoff grimaces. He runs a hand through scruffy hair, concern laced in his twisted expression, before he crosses it across his chest. His leg is jittering, posture tense, and eyes unable to stop watching everywhere; he looks ready to bolt.

Gavin looks over the house again – takes in the white color with blue accents, the tall and graceful beauty it objectively is. In another universe, people would’ve been fighting for a chance to own the home; Gavin would have even called the place homey enough to start a life there, a soft charm hidden in the place and large enough to host a nuclear family. His grandad did a good job of building the place.

But as it stands, Gavin’s internal praise clashes with the horrific ravings from a man on his deathbed. The same man who built a home with bare hands and destroyed it with his delusions.

“I know you’ve already paid for the movers, and the truck is coming soon, but…” Geoff pauses, mulling over his words. If the situation hadn’t been so fraught with the unknown, Gavin would have poked fun at the constipated expression. “You don’t have to move into the house, y’know? You could have just accepted it from your man’s will, but let it rot unused. Hell, I don’t mind paying for more movers to truck your stuff back to my place.”

“Aw, Geoffrey, you’re really that concerned for me that you’d _pay_ for something?”

Geoff flicks Gavin’s nose, and he huffs when Gavin whines to clutch at the affected area. “Don’t be a baby, it was barely anything.” He rests his hands on his waist, looking imposing for once; a protective nature and fear of the unknown could do wonders to people. “I’m afraid of anything supernatural, and I don’t like the thought of you living where there could be something like it lingering here. Maybe it’s Southern superstition, but…”

“Geoffrey–”

“Look, maybe I’m coming off as too much but I don’t want you dying on me. You’re basically my kid, Gav, and I’m already a crybaby at the thought of you moving out. I don’t want to be an even bigger crybaby at your funeral.”

Something inside Gavin sobers up at hearing Geoff sound so genuine. Living with Geoff for nearly a decade now, he’s closer to Geoff than anyone else; he knows Geoff’s love language is all about what he does for people, not what he says. For Geoff to voice out such a sentiment, his concern is strong and raw, ready to take any hits for Gavin’s sake. Geoff has always been like that, fatherly and protective in the oddest yet kindest ways.

Gavin bumps their shoulders, keeps close by his surrogate father’s side with a small and crooked grin, and he gives a quick, one-armed hug. Gavin hopes he looks reassuring but judging from the snort on Geoff’s end, he must have missed the target by a mile. Whatever it takes to lift the worry, he reasons for now, even if Geoff will make fun of his face later, when they’re less afraid and more sure.

“I’m not gonna die here, and you’re not getting rid of me that quickly,” Gavin says. “Plus you’re so attached to me that you’re gonna visit me almost every weekend. You’ll keep me alive, if so I only avoid you being mad at me!”

Geoff raises a brow at the assumption, but Gavin finds no sign of denial coming from his end. Instead, there’s an exasperated expression encased in a fondness Gavin’s been used to ever since he started to live with the older. Familiar and reassuring, Gavin doesn’t feel bad at the smirk that’s tugging his lips when Geoff slings an arm around him.

“You really will miss me, huh? I can see it written all over your face.”

“Shut the fuck up. We almost had a decent family moment for once there before we gotta start moving your shit in.”

“Geoffrey, c’mon– Agh, not a noogie! I just fixed my hair this morning! _Shit,_ that hurts!”

  


* * *

_“Look, you probably deserved that noogie. You just won’t tell me what you did for Geoff to give you one.”_

Michael’s voice is tinny over the phone speaker, but the blase tone of his voice is near palpable. He doesn’t seem even bothered by the update, the faint clicking of a controller managing to travel to Gavin’s side; he sounds more annoyed at the death of his character than Gavin’s pain.

“ _Michael_ , that’s mean. You were supposed to be my best friend, my boi,” Gavin whines, leaning close to the phone set on the counter for Michael to hear his misery more clearly. First it’s cleaning dishes after a late dinner and failed game of rock-paper-scissors, and now it’s a best friend betraying him. “You’re supposed to be on my side!”

_“Yeah, well, Geoff’s my boss here,”_ Michael scoffs. _“And besides, it’s ‘cus I’m your best friend that I can say that shit. I know you, and I know you like to act like a dumbass.”_

“Oi!”

_“Look, why else would you live in the house your crazy grandfather left you? Which, by the way, real fucked up considering the stories he told you. Did he hate you or something?”_ Michael questions.

“W-What? No, he liked me a lot!” A flustered splutter escapes, and Gavin yelps as he nearly drops a plate into the sink; first night here, he doesn’t want to already face a casualty on top of the haunted comments. “Michael, you almost made me drop a plate!”

_“Not my fault, butterfingers. I was just askin’ a real question, because your grandad said too much detail for that stuff to_ not _be real.”_ Michael pauses, and Gavin can’t hear any of the old game noises from before; Michael must have paused the game too. _“I don’t believe in it, just like you. But I mean...evidence is evidence, y’know, man?”_

And that’s something, isn’t it? Even _Michael_ is hesitant of the place – brave, invincible Michael with more than enough skepticism and with no bone afraid of anything the world throws at him.

With a sigh, Gavin shuts the water off and sets the plate down, lest he nearly drops it again. He shuts his eyes, and he tries to figure out what to say when he’s both for and against the points that both Michael and Geoff had brought up already. It doesn’t help his pounding head, the thought that this house is beginning to feel like a nightmare so soon.

_“Speaking ‘bout the house, how is it so far? Any bloody handprints anywhere, or maybe even a few dirt patches in the backyard?”_ Michael chuckles, an obvious attempt in trying to lift the mood. _“Didn’t you say your grandpa left all the original furniture there too? Is it bloodied?”_

Gavin turns to lean against the counter, only to wince when he sees the spilled water soaking into his shirt. “What’s your obsession with bloody furniture? Yeah, there’s furniture in rooms like the living room, dining room, patio, but nothing bad. Though the office upstairs has only bare furniture, while the guest bedroom doesn’t have anything!”

_“Please tell me you’re going to make Geoff sleep there, on the floor, because that’s fucking cruel but funny.”_

“Michael, please,” Gavin scoffs, “I’m making Geoff sleep in the single, furnished bedroom. The one used by my own granddad, before he had to move out to get help.”

Michael barks out a laugh from the other end, and it’s an infectious, bright sort of thing. It makes Gavin feel better against all the supernatural inconvenience about the house. 

_“You’re colder than I thought,”_ Michael finally utters through the dregs of his amusement. He settles down with a soft sigh, sounding more serious. _“But really, you gonna be okay? You get scared easily in video games, I don’t want you to die of fright in that house, boi.”_

A small smile tugs at Gavin’s lips despite the slight swell of exhaustion. As tiring the concerns would get soon, he appreciates the thought from some of his closest friends. Most of them would have never said it in such blunt terms – not when they could express it in punches, noogies, or general tackling. But this situation, the ‘moving about two hours away to a house with evil rumors’ isn’t very much the usual.

“Don’t worry, boi. I should be fine, since I don’t completely believe in that shite. Not yet anyway, I guess if this stuff keeps coming up,” Gavin hums. He gets back to washing the remaining dishes from the earlier takeout dinner, only to get stuck on a piece of stubborn dirt. “Besides, I also have Geoff to use a meatshield.”

A snort of laughter from the other end.

_“The guy signs my paychecks, don’t let him die! Not until he gives me a promotion.”_ Michael sounds relaxed now, and the noises of a video game play again. _“Maybe the demon could help a guy out here with some money. Like, I dunno, make a deal or–”_

_Thud!_

Gavin startles at the noise from upstairs, even more so when it’s followed by a slew of loud cursing. The surprise morphs into fear, and Gavin chucks the plate into the sink, previous concern of breaking it disappearing, as he grabs his phone and sprints up the stairs. His eyes are wide as he follows the yells and almost runs into a doorway, worried about what he might find.

_“What the fuck? What the hell was that? Gav?”_

Their previous conversation is playing back in his head, Geoff’s anxiety in high definition while Gavin had brushed off the reasonable worries. Thoughts of _oh shit, what if,_ and _oh god_ run as if they’re the credits of a movie, and they blur together like how the world does as Gavin makes his way to Geoff in his soon-to-be office.

His heart thudding and eyes wide, the fact that he only finds Geoff squatted and swearing at a camera on the ground is anti-climactic. Thankfully so, considering the multiple concerns about the house, but Gavin can’t help the groan escaping him. He can already hear the start of Michael’s concerned bitching, asking for some sort of answer with expletives about being a British asshole and an Alabaman douchebag.

Out of all the things to happen here—

“Geoff, you bastard, I thought…” Gavin pauses to catch his breath, to calm himself down before he has an aneurysm. “I thought you got taken hostage by a demon or something!”

Geoff’s head jerks up at Gavin’s voice. It takes a moment for the surprise to be washed away with annoyance, processing what Gavin had just said. He waves a fist at Gavin, “Don’t make that sort of jokes with me right now, Gav! I thought I was actually gonna die when I heard the noise.” He grunts, gesturing wildly, “But turns out it was just this fuckin’ camera falling. Scared the shit out of me.”

Gavin shuts his eyes; he doesn’t get mad, not easily at least, but his composure had been slowly being scraped away every minute he spent in the house. Turning away to put off dealing with Geoff for now, he focuses on the still anger-fueled yelling on his phone.

_“Gav? Geoff? I swear to fucking god, you better not be playing a prank on me in that demon bitch of a house–!”_

“Michael, it’s fine, Michael,” Gavin’s quick to reassure, running a hand through his hair, “it was just Geoff dropping something. We just...got terrified after all the talk of a haunted house, I guess.”

_“Really? Jesus Christ, I thought you found a dead body or something! And didn't you say you didn't believe in that shit, like seconds ago?”_

“If we did, I’d be screaming, boi,” Gavin says, purposefully ignoring the last tidbit. He hazards a glance back at Geoff, and he huffs when the older man refuses to meet his eyes. “Michael, I’ll call you back after, okay? I gotta talk to Geoff about what happened, and it’s obvious that we’re a little jittery about stuff right now.”

Without waiting for a reply, Gavin ends the call. He’s been friends with Michael long enough to know that the other man’s going to be pissed and will tear him to shreds tomorrow, but that’s a _tomorrow_ issue. That’s for future Gavin to survive, while present Gavin has to deal with an uncomfortable Geoff.

“Sorry ‘bout that, bud,” is the first thing to spill from Geoff’s mouth, less panicked and more sorrowful. He picks up the fallen tech, and his thumbs gently examine the outer shell of the camera, running over every groove to catch any possible damage. “I thought I put the camera in the middle of the desk, but I guess I bumped into it pretty hard.”

He looks over it once more with a furrowed brow, before he hands it back to Gavin. Geoff shoves his hands in his pockets and tries to avoid eye contact with Gavin, tries to stay away from any more contact with the camera. “I don’t see any outside pieces ruined at least. Maybe it was more of a loud noise than actual damage.”

Gavin pores over every part he can see with a pointed intensity, his fingers examining the sensitive planes. There’s a thin scratch right at the corner, and he figures that’s where it must have come into contact with the floor first; at least nothing popped off or went screwy, he thinks as he fiddles with clicky buttons and rolling adjusters. A moment later, he boots the camera up, finding nothing wrong with the screen — thankfully — before he takes a candid shot of Geoff without warning.

“Woah! Gavin, what the fuck?”

“This dumb photo of you is your payment for dropping my camera, Geoffrey,” Gavin grins. No damage done, no reason to stay mad. It’s one less thing to worry about after the flurry of shit that this house has left on Gavin’s life already. “Besides, had to check if the photo taking was okay or not! Nothing bad, luckily.”

He turns the camera to show the preview screen on the back; in bright digital record, Geoff’s face is contorted into a horrible confused and fucked-up expression as his movements blur him partially. The flash had been on too, and it illuminates all the wrong curves of Geoff’s face. “Well, besides your face at least. But hey! This should be your photo on the company site. What a trustworthy face of a founder of a multimillion company.”

“Gavin, don’t you dare send this to Burnie–”

“I’ll think about it,” he interrupts. “Besides, maybe the photo will expose the demon or ghost supposedly living here with me. What if it ends up behind you in the photo?”

“Don’t fuckin’ say that, dickhead!”

Geoff shudders at the mention of the supernatural stories of the area, eyes glaring at the empty space of the office and shoulders hunching up. It’s almost as if he believes he could see whatever was terrorizing the place with a dirty look, maybe even cleanse it with his fear scent and fatherly protection of Gavin.

Gavin ignores the glare, and he continues to peer at the image of Geoff. It really does look like a photo he can use against the older man for pranks, but his brows furrow when he catches something that shouldn’t be present. A quick swipe to remove dirt from the screen and rapid blinking to clear his sight yields no change.

His eyes can’t tear itself away from the corners of the photo where shadows almost form a vignette around Geoff. Dark and misty, its presence is almost ominous with the rumors from his grandfather bolstering a small curiosity inside him. But a shake of his head to dispel those thoughts, and Gavin is back to a normal looking photo – no shadows present.

He frowns, but he doesn’t question it; it must have been his earlier jab at Geoff getting into his head. It’s probably nothing but a damaged internal piece he can’t reach for now or a few dead pixels on the screen, forming after the camera’s fall. No need to dwell on it or worry Geoff about what Gavin just witnessed or hallucinated; Gavin can stay a skeptic for tonight.

* * *

Gavin wakes up late the next day after staying up until two am to finish setting up his bedroom. Though bedroom is giving it more credit than it’s actually worth if he’s honest, Gavin grumbles.

He sits up from his mattress on the floor, and there’s a dull ache running down the length of his back, near his spine. A few twists and cracks of his body settle the ache down, but sleeping on the hardwood floor with a thin mattress isn’t doing his back any favors. He doesn’t want to focus on the impending inevitability of aging, and just thanks the world for letting him get some good sleep.

Busy from his sudden, morning crisis, Gavin hadn’t looked around his room. It’s not until he stands up, rubbing at his eyes and scratching a patch of his happy trail, that he realizes what a fucking mess it’s turned to.

Almost every box of his personal items is opened, its contents strewn about in a haphazard manner — as if someone had been rummaging through them to search for something that they themselves didn’t know. Clothes, books, personal hygiene; anything he could think of, there was at least one item of it littered the floor. And looking around, Gavin fears all of his socks have lost their matching significant other. The worst part of the entire scene, really.

He groans, wondering why Geoff had to pull a stunt like that already. Did he really think that he could get away with it? Who else is there in the house besides them? _The demon?_

Gavin yells with a frown, “ _Geoffrey!_ ” His brows are furrowed as he stumbles out the doorway, still groggy and waking up. He hears the thundering footsteps coming up the stairs, and he pulls a half-hearted scowl as he meets Geoff’s eyes. “D’you really pull a prank on me this morning? Now my entire room is a mess, Geoff, and it didn’t look like that when I went to bed!”

Geoff reels back. “Huh, the fuck you mean I pulled a prank? If I wanted to pull a prank, I would’ve signed my name on it and drawn a dick,” he defends. “When would I’ve had the time to do it anyway? I’ve been busy all day unpacking shit and cooking you lunch, asshole!”

“Then how did this happen, when I opened the one box to get to my clothes?!” Gavin steps out of the doorway and gestures behind him, arms flailing in wild arcs and an irritated temperament. “I fell asleep in a clean room!”

Geoff pokes his head through, and Gavin sees the way Geoff’s eyes widen; he turns his head every which way, taking in the state of the bedroom, before he hears the muttered swear under Geoff’s breath. They trade glances and vague gestures, as if it’d clear up whatever happened or maybe even the room itself. It’s after a minute when Gavin pauses and finally _realizes_ the slow building confusion on Geoff’s face.

“Christ...you didn’t do it, did you?” It’s posed as a question, but there’s nothing uncertain in his tone. He falters, staggering back to press his hands to his face and leaning against the wall next to his bedroom door. “So, then it had to be me? But I really did only open up the one box for sleep clothes…”

He mumbles incoherently trying to track down exactly what he did yesterday, going so far to count all the different actions on his fingers.

“Look, Gavvers, it wasn’t me for sure, but if you don’t remember doing it, it might not be you either,” Geoff says. He fiddles with the constantly present bracelets on his wrists at Gavin’s inquiring look. “I know there’s only the two of us here, so shit dictates that it had to be one of us who did this. But maybe shit was wrong, and there could be a way to _not_ be us?”

Gavin squints. It takes a moment for his brain to process stuff. “What are you _on_ about? I just woke up, and I’m still too tired for this, Geoffrey–”

“What is there to not get? I’m saying it could be the actual demon or ghost or whatever living here! It’s trying to fuck with us, or get us out of here!”

“ _Geoff_ ,” Gavin whines. He doesn’t have the energy to deal with this right now, even if he did just wake up from a decently long sleep; hell, he doesn’t have the energy to deal with anything supernatural now or ever. Again, he doesn’t believe in them, not like how Geoff does, and he hasn’t done anything to piss anyone off besides Geoff himself — there’s no way it could be a demon or whatever. He’d be dead by now.

All it took was a good sleep to remind him of that after yesterday's fiasco and Michael's question. There probably is nothing unusual here, just paranoia.

“It probably was just me, alright? And no, no, don’t give me that look,” he huffs, giving up on his counting fingers mission to cross his arms. “I’ve sleep walked before, done some weird crap during it, and this might be one of those moments. You’ve seen how forgetful I could be sometimes, even if I _did_ do this before I slept last night.”

Geoff still looks wary. His eyes can’t stop darting between Gavin and the trashed room. “I’m just saying it could be a possibility, so we can both be aware of it,” he reasons as he reaches to hold onto Gavin’s wrist gently. “It doesn’t hurt to be careful, kid. I’ve always been told horror stories of the supernatural, and there ain’t no way at least one story isn’t true.”

The irritation and the fight leave Gavin, almost as if a deflating balloon, and Gavin feels smaller standing next to Geoff, like a kid again. Feels more exhausted at the simple sight of Geoff being fearful and worried for his life, but Gavin understands.

It’s exactly like yesterday’s situation when Gavin had stormed up the stairs to get to Geoff after the thud, his closeness with the man fueling his own protective urges. He can’t blame Geoff for it when Gavin had the same reaction, and if anything, it means more — fearful, superstitious Geoff is willing to stay with Gavin in the haunted house just to keep him safe.

"Okay, I’ll be more careful and open about this whole...supernatural business. It probably isn’t anything, but if it’ll keep the gray hairs off you,” Gavin concedes. "You might have to start dyeing your hair, if something does happen!"

Geoff rolls his eyes, but he tucks Gavin close to his side, cheek resting against Gavin’s temple. “You’re such a piece of shit, I can’t believe I agreed to come out here,” he chuckles. He drags Gavin with him down the stairs, humming, “Alright, time to eat lunch now! All the food’s probably gone cold now though, and I’m blaming you for it.”

“Geoff!”

Their bickering continues all the way down the stairs and into the dining room, and the bedroom door behind them closes shut.

**Author's Note:**

> quin has like the best fucking ideas ever, tbh,, find them on tumblr @ viridianchance.


End file.
